


Flowers, for You

by themuffintitan



Category: South Park
Genre: (psst but not really prom night they barely even go), AgedUp, Cuddling, Fluff, Homophobia ( just a lil from Cartman ), Kissing, M/M, Prom Night, Snuggling, That's it, Tickling, basically just some extreme fluff tbh, i don't really know what else to tag?, it's all just gay, very very gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 08:23:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5998708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themuffintitan/pseuds/themuffintitan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clyde and Craig are happily in a relationship, and decide to do what any ordinary high school couple would do, and that would be attend the Prom!! Whoohoo, blow some streamers, throw some parties, drink age appropriate fruit punch!! But... unfortunately, the two get stopped at the front door, and are prohibited from entering the school gym if they were two males attending as a couple. Craig storms off with Clyde, and Clyde feels terrible for Craig. Craig's didn't speak on the way home, and he ran into his house angrily while Clyde waited on the front porch. Clyde has a plan.</p><p>About twenty minutes later, Clyde arrives with snacks, candles, and flowers at Craig's door. He tells himself that he was going to give Craig the best prom night of his life, and he was going to make sure Craig lived the night happily. Although, it was going to be hard getting Craig out of that bad mood....</p><p>A friend actually gave me the idea for this fic! Also, I wrote this entire thing in 2 days. I've lost count of the amount of hours sitting at my computer. I am very tired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers, for You

**Author's Note:**

> I forgot what I ate this morning because my mind has been nothing but writing this fic all day. I'm going to sleep soon.

Clyde POV

Normally, I didn’t lie to folks.

Actually, who am I fooling, I lied all the time.

  
Not about important things, no. If someone was in trouble, or if someone was asking for the facts, I’d tell the truth. It was better if I did. I told the truth when someone else wanted it.

But, if I could somehow think of something to save my guts, or strengthen my ego, I’d surely try. The way you’d expect me to lie is exactly what would’ve happened, if you knew some of the things I told everyone. I would lie about myself. But, doesn’t everyone? To avoid shame, you know? If I was lying all the time, I would probably be lying about myself, the things I did, the way I looked, which is logical, because you are probably lying yourself too. All the time. Every minute of your life, just like I’m myself every minute of my life.

I’d lie about studying for tests, I’d lie about not having to condition my hair to make it soft, I’d lie about having steady relationships with ladies since before middle school. I’d lie because I was a kid, living up to my class’s expectation of what a cool kid was like. And it had taken me how many years to realize how awful I was at lying.

Maybe it was brushed off the shoulder in middle school, my symptoms of having a Pinocchio nose.. My voice would crack, squeak, I’d even let out nervous laughter, running my fingers down my head and through my hair, averting my eyes. I knew and felt way too aware of the lies I told every time I told them, because I was always told it was wrong, but I still let sweat bead on my forehead while I lied to people’s faces, because everything would always work out in the end, no questions asked. I was awkward when I would lie, and that’s how everyone is on a daily basis when they're pulling themselves through seventh grade, on the ground, army crawling and scraping their nails in the dirt they’re going through. I didn’t sound any different than when I was telling the truth, no one could even tell!

That is, until the people in my class started leaving their crysalli and flying away like butterflies, fresh out of puberty. Whenever I’d lie my voice would still squeak like I was 8 years old again, and eventually people caught onto my tricks. They raised their eyebrows and pointed their fingers at my burning face when I told them I would pay them back the 20 dollars I owed them. They would call me out and snicker to my face that I wasn’t fooling them when I wouldn’t admit to forgetting to brush my teeth that morning.. I wouldn’t be able to look a person in the eye, but they would still see the clear truth in my irises.

My family noticed the most. Dad asks me to clean the kitchen as I’m tapping away at my phone in the living room. I speak up, telling him that I had done it the day before and it was then my sister’s turn, pausing in between words and voice cracking. He would turn his head through the door and order me again, and remind me that I was to do them tomorrow as well for lying.

Never did I really get in trouble, and I figured it was because of how obvious I was. Everyone knew, but I still tried to keep my self-image high enough as I had had it before. Sometimes, I would really try to lie, make sure to cover up as best as I could, others, lies would slip out like a sailor slips out profanity.. I’d do it without thinking, as I would in junior high. There seemed to be no point in admitting the truth when everyone already saw through you. Especially my own sister, who could recognize my every emotion before I even knew the difference between a truth and a lie. She would stop me every time I seemed suspicious, and yank the words right out of my mouth whether I wanted to say them or not. It had gotten easier to fight back as I grew up next to her, but I couldn’t remember the last time I had won against her cunning arguments, and that was probably because I never had won. She could see when I was upset, when I was embarrassed, when I liked someone. Liking someone was the absolute worst of my fears, she would figure out instantly, and tease me.

To close that topic, if I had ever denied being head-over-heels for Craig Tucker, I was lying.

* * *

 

In late Spring, when romance was blooming like tulips in a garden, and everyone had their dates to the one and only prom night, she had stopped me in the kitchen later in the evening. I was still dressed up in some lame black dress pants and a shirt with a brightly colored tie, and I was supposed to be dancing on the gymnasium floor with my pretty date. I thought everyone, meaning only my dad and sister, who was home from college, had been asleep. But the old, wise one stood in the kitchen doorway with old, high-cut shorts that had drawstrings stretched down to her knees, and her broken nighttime glasses sliding down her nose in the florescent lighting. She squinted like she didn’t have her lenses on to get a better look at me. I was just about to step out the back door and head to where I was before, but she caught me while she was in the middle of a trip to the fridge for a midnight snack.

“....Why do you have candles and Mom’s vase in your hands?” she asked, leaning against the doorframe from across the room. She crossed her arms and legs both, the beginning of her interrogating process. I gulped.

My arms held a large clutter of a variety of different items that clattered while I trembled in fear of how Sis would respond. I held things such as candles of any type you could imagine: scented, non scented, those little cuts of wax you melt over a lightbulb and a plate, those of which I had brought along a lighter with as well, a couple bags of chips, and my mother’s ol’ ceramic flower vase, full of freshly purchased and cut roses I found at a pharmacy that I had planned on giving him after the night was over, so they were sitting in the back of the car. On a night such as prom night, why wouldn’t sister of mine be suspicious of me?

“C-C-Craig’s power is out. I’m staying there for the n-night,” I muttered. I had wished I could’ve just ran out the door before she questioned me again, or pointed out my lie like she always did. If I couldn’t win, I could save myself by running away. That’s how it works in Pokemon, yeah?

My older sister had been to prom only a few years before that night, and she let her eyes droop, raising an eyebrow. She thought she had an idea of what was up. Scented candles, old records, the pitch black of the night and my attempts at trying to be discreet. Even if the power was out, everything I had done would give anybody the wrong idea. Candles are always there to symbolize intimacy, and with the inconvenient date the night took place on, it wouldn’t take Sherlock to come up with the only assumption.

“Yeah. Right. Are you getting some tonight, boy?” she asked, keeping her voice down. She sounded very sleepy, and her voice crumbled with night-sickness. Nothing would have stopped her from biting her lip and making crude motions with her arms at me. My face flared up like the candles being cradled in my arms. With her, I had no reason to not tell the truth, because I always felt I had more of a place of mind, even when I knew I didn’t. She drove me insane very, very often.

“N-No, I’m actually not! Wuh… -We kind of got kicked out. Y-you know, b-because of g-gay stuff,” I stuttered, averting my eyes downward and kicking my foot. She gave me a look of concern, brushing her dark brown curls out from in front of her eyes, like she was opening the blinds to a window where she could witness the truth. Her feet padded across the icy and yellowed tile, and she pushed her glasses up her nose so they wouldn’t fall when she looked down on me, just like I transformed into her little brother again.

“Oooooh, that’s rough, bud,” she comforted, placing a hand on my shoulder. She knew that I had had a crush on Craig before I even knew it years ago, and she had been there for me the entire time up until then and beyond, like a seeing-eye dog who helped me through.

“Yeah. A-and I wanted to do something special for him,” I told her, shrugging my shoulders. “I could tell how much he had wanted to do something tonight, but…” I looked up at her. “I-I want to make sure he still had the time of his life like he wanted.”

My sister stared at me for a moment, then snorted. Her lips curled back into a grin, her teeth white and straight, perfect, just like she acted to me. She ruffled my hair, taking the chance when I had my hands full and couldn’t do anything to stop her. I furrowed my eyebrows and blew air up at her hand through my bottom lip, warning her to stop, and she chuckled again.

“You’re a huuuge sap. It’s strange to see someone like Craig be so into you,” she said. My cheeks tingled, and I stretched and arm out far enough to grab ahold of the door handle, struggling to keep the clutter in my arms in place, but she started and raised her arm across my body, and cracked the door open for me.

“Uh… yeah. Thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow,” I murmured embarrassingly, before squeaking the door open wider with my back, and making my way across the grass and over to next door.

“I didn’t see condoms in your hands, make sure he’s got some!” she shouted, and my mouth gaped, hoping my cheeks didn’t look as red as they felt in the late darkness. My eyes darted to my dad’s bedroom window from the outside, and luckily it was closed. I twirled back around on my heel and grumbled under my breath, about how she was an asshole and that I never did anything to her. I stomped my way to Craig’s front door, my sister’s menacing laughter becoming faint and eventually stop after I heard the kitchen door close from outside the house. I could still feel her mean smile when I imagined her making her way back to her bedroom.

With a garage sale in my arms, I tried once again to reach over and knock on his front door. I leaned backward on my heels to peek in through his windows from feet away, and through the blur of the shutters I could see a lamp or dim light shining. He was surely awake, and without the lamp I would’ve known he wasn’t asleep. I had too many starry nights of Craig knocking on my bedroom window and climbing into my room, telling me he couldn’t sleep a wink unless he was in my bed, and that I was there with him. The digital clock could read 9:45 p.m., or 3:20 a.m., it didn’t matter, but he always came when he wanted to.

I could hear tiny earthquakes of footsteps coming from the other side of the door, before I heard a sniffle and a set of fingers turning the lock from inside and swinging the door on it’s hinges.

Craig was still in his nice clothes, similar to mine, dark colors with a bold and bright accent for a tie, yet his tie was undone and drooping over his chest, hanging from his neck as he slouched over the arm grasping the doorknob. His shirt was a bit wrinkled but being worn for a few hours, and his shoes were off, unlike mine, which hadn’t come off to make my way along the damp sidewalk. It had rained earlier that day, and when I had a closer look at Craig’s surprised face, I could see that the ground wasn’t the only thing that was wet. His eyes were slightly puffy, and he sniffed once more, not tracing his eyes away from my face to what I was holding.

“Sh-shit, Hi. Whuh... Why are you here?” His voice muffled under his sleeve while he wiped his cheeks with his arm. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced his palms into them, making circular motions and blinking his vision back when he finished. He rubbed around his eyes very hard, as they were redder and more swollen than before. He didn’t want to show weakness, and that was the Craig I knew. And I knew what to do.

“I’m here to help you sleep,” I joked, and he made eye contact with me again. His stormy blue pupils trailed down my chest and into the clutter being held in my arms. His leg bounced, and he kept his eyebrows lowered. He was still in a bad mood, but I wouldn’t expect him to jump into my arms anyhow. He couldn’t ever trust me when I wanted something good for him. Hhmph. Beats getting rejected completely.

I did, however, predict what he was going to do. I stood there tooting my own horn while I told myself that there was no way he didn’t want to spend the rest of the night with his boyfriend. He gritted his teeth and furrowed his eyebrows, stealing one of the bags of chips from the top of the pile and scoffed. He pushed the door open wider with his foot so it wouldn’t hit me on my way in. and trudged back into the dimly lit house.

He allowed me to follow behind him to his empty living room, flopping down on the sofa where he clearly had been sitting before. There sat an old and worn blanket sprawled on the floor, and his cell phone lay face up on the table. He had forgotten to lock it with the push of a button, and it illuminated the ceiling and parts of the room with the time 10:24 p.m. and a blurry, zoomed in picture of his pet guinea pig as his phone’s background. He set the bag of chips unopened on the coffee table, and brought his knees to his chest, staring off into what probably meant nothing to him at the time.

I politely made my way around the sofa, setting the items quietly on the table one by one, and slumped down next to him. He turned his head away from me, ebony hair shaking and covering half of his eyes intentionally. I had figured Craig had cared about that night, but seeing him trying to keep himself from feeling upset started to shatter my heart with a sledgehammer. And at the same time, I felt he was being ridiculous, because I was going to try my hardest for him, he just didn’t recognize that, yet. I rolled my eyes and scooted closer to him, turning to my side and hugging his upper torso. My right hand held his head to my chest, running its fingers through his hair, and tilting his face towards mine, just so I could brush his bangs away from his forehead and kiss his head gently. His shoulders sank and his head tilted further into my chest, his ear positioned right where my chest echoed a heartbeat like a little child poking their parents’ faces, trying to wake them up. He listened thoughtfully, and I squeezed him tighter in my bearhug after he began to trace the creases in my shirt wrinkles with his index finger.

“Cartman is a real asshole, huh,” I said loosening my hold on his body. He stopped moving his fingers. I could hear him growl, and feel his breath through my shirt.

“You didn’t have to fucking tell me that, I knew that perfectly well,” he snipped, speaking lowly. He curled up further into a ball and wrapped his arms under his thighs.

When we had been kicked out earlier that day, Craig was already full of adrenaline and was ready to spend the entire night now he had wanted to. At those dumb dances, the teachers, as awful as they were already, would let you get away with almost anything, and Craig was up for that. He had planned on partying and making crude Sharpie doodles on the bathroom walls, and taking as much free food as he could from off the tables providing them. Craig always took these chances, but I had never actually participated in them. I just tagged along. But, I still asked him if he wanted to go anyway, I couldn’t have not gone with my own boyfriend. I had always dreamed of leading someone in a dance or getting them a fresh glass of punch like people did in all those movies. Craig wasn’t too against it either, goes to show he really cared. He told me, “of course I want to go with you,” rolling his eyes, and crossing his arms, looking up at me. He was embarrassed, I figured perhaps he hadn’t considered the idea of what you were supposed to do at a high school prom, receive flowers, watch people get dress-coded, get kissed. It wasn’t all that glamorous at all, but still memorable, and I knew that was how Craig liked a date. Simple, maybe unoriginal, but something to remember. He was ready to live that out, but we were showed up before we could even enter the building.  
I had our traffic cone orange entry tickets clutched in my hand, slightly crumpled and damp from holding onto them too tightly. When we exited the vehicle, the night had already started fun, I held the door open for him, better be obnoxiously cheesy than awkwardly cheesy, and chained our arms together.

“May I escort you, handsome sir?” I joked, and he punched me on the arm.

“Don’t be a dork, you ass,” he grinned, and we walked together past the large flag pole and the flower garden, being lit by the sidewalk lights, and approached the front doors of the school building. I feel guilty, like I should’ve noticed Eric’s disgusted look, a scrunched nose and furrowed eyebrows, and dragged Craig away while I had the chance. But I was just as lovestruck and stupid a few hours before, excitement was overwhelming my body as well.

“....Friends?” Cartman spoke. He had a brutish look in his brown eyes. Brown eyes usually symboled for kindness and welcome, but his stare only gave looks of intimidation and sourness. But, Craig and I’s face stayed the same; a smile was stitched under both of our noses, lit up while we stood with our feet together, ready to walk inside.

“Nope,” I chirped, sliding the tickets next to one of Cartman’s sausage fingers. He made a noise in his throat, and slowly pushed the miniature pieces of paper back in my direction. I stared down at them for a moment, and then looked back up at Cartman, who had a pair of glasses too small for his over-sized head, and was checking the watch around his wrist, and then looking at his nails.

“I can’t let you in, then,” he replied, not even looking me in the eye. I furrowed my eyebrows at him, and pushed the tickets back in his direction. He was showing signs of pulling a dick move like he usually would, and my shoulders became tense. He had teased me enough before no matter how nice I was to his filthy-ass. I, by then, wasn’t going to tolerate anything, especially if it affected my own time.

“Why not?” I bit, my fingertips turning white from pressing down on the table too hard. Cartman looked up at me with lazy, drooping eyelids and a patchy, unshaven chin. He sighed.

“Because, the night would be ruined,” Cartman said. I opened my mouth again, trying to keep my tension hidden, but Craig spoke up first, gritting his teeth lightly.

“Yeah? What makes you think that? Are you here to just let us in? Why don’t you fucking let us in then, and we won’t bother you,” he snapped, but Cartman gave the same customer-service voice when he spun in his computer chair slightly to face in Craig’s direction. Craig’s arm was still hooked in mine, and I could feel him trying to stay calm.

“Are you coming as friends?”

“No, does it fucking look like it?” Craig shifted his arm, and raised my own along with it. “He’s my date, and we came here to go to a high school prom.”

“Then I’m afraid I can’t do anything for you, Craig. If you two are a couple I can’t be forced to allow you guys in,” Cartman argued, but Craig leaned forward further, and I had to stiffen my upper arm to hold him back discreetly.

“What’s it to you? Does anyone else have a problem with us being a ga-”

“Craig, please, I’m only trying to do service hours here, alright? Can you give me a small break?” He signed his hands into a pinching motion, and eyed Craig through the circle he had made with his fingers. Craig’s cheeks, turned red, and I would’ve stopped him if my own head wasn’t sparking with anger at Cartman’s cruel, yet calming tone. Passive-aggressiveness. It made me want to ball my fists and back-hand his face, hitting the lard out of his body.

“Give you a break? Like you fucking need one! You better fuc-” Craig was interrupted by another couple approaching the foldable table. Cartman looked away, and greeted the young man and woman whom had the same smiles Craig and I had just minutes before. Cartman joyfully took the tickets from the girl’s hand, and placed them in the box next to his arm laying on the table, motioning the couple through the doors behind the table and telling them to, “Have a good time.” Craig snarled at Cartman, narrowing his eyes and putting both palms pressed against the top of the table. If he were to add any more weight, the table would’ve flipped over, or would’ve broken into two pieces. He took a deep breath, turned his head to face me, and exhaled forcefully, loudly. He looked back to Cartman’s fat bulldog face, and shut his eyes. I raised my hands ready to grab him in if I needed to, and he spoke again.

“We aren’t going to do anything to ruin your night. If you just let us in, we will leave you alo-” but Cartman’s bland attitude interrupted Craig yet again.

“Look, I’m not going to let you in because I know you guys will be teased and made fun of. I’m totally not against the fact that you fuck dudes, Craig, that’s fine. But I don’t want to deal with you guys being messed with.”  
Craig readied his arms backward and curled his fingers into fists, but I grabbed ahold of his left arm tightly, and brought it down, hoping that I had full control of the other limb as well. Craig, however, kicked the table leg, letting the table clatter from being put together, and it moved a few inches with Cartman’s weight leaning over the plastic table and into it. His death-defying stare never left Cartman’s face, and he shouted.

“You’re full of shit, You fucking bastard!” Craig amplified. I could feel my stress leave through his yelling, like Craig was taking away my hate for Eric and letting that go for me. I had to stop him though, or we wouldn’t have a chance at ever going to any school-related event again. I placed my hands on Craig’s shoulders and smoothed the fabric of his shirt like ruffled feathers, and he scoffed, grabbing my hand and turning us both around on a walk back to the car. Cartman could be heard muttering something about being,

“Seriously, guys, I’m bein’ seriously,” but Craig wouldn’t believe Cartman decades after all the crimes he had committed. The ride back to our street was silent: the only lights that could be seen where the neon protractors behind the steering wheel and the headlights illuminating the road in front of us. Craig stared out the passenger seat window, depressed-like, and when I pulled up on his driveway, Craig pulled me over by the shirt collar and kissed me cheek, before exiting the car and stomping over to his front door, unlocking it with the house key that was hidden in his pocket, and stepping inside.

I came to a full realization of what Craig had actually wanted, because he only argued over our relationship, and I didn’t want him to think loving each other was a struggle he would have to go through. So, I stepped out the car door on my own driveway, snuck upstairs without turning the lights on, and gathered as many items as I could to make a night just as, maybe even more, romantic as all the other kids were at the high school were living. I crossed my fingers that Craig would smile like he did before Cartman even said a word. It had to be memorable, it just had to be, and I had to think up a plan in less than twenty minutes to make Craig happy again. Cartman wasn’t worth his time, and he had to learn that instead of moping over what had happened, he should make the best of what he had already.

Fast forward a bit, and Craig and I were resting on his family room couch, I was laying down on my back while Craig was sprawled out on top of me, gently holding my shirt in his hand like a baby, and letting his eyes droop. The only light allowing us to see each other’s faces faintly was the blurry street-light that was just barely making it through his front windows and curtains. His head lay very close to mine, almost so I could rest my chin on the top of it, so I could hear him crunching on the handfuls of Chex Mix from one of the bags I brought over. He picked out the pretzels with his fingers occasionally when I would tap him on the arm, and he would hold them up behind his head to share with me. I sucked them in like straws and munched on them in the silence with him.

He shifted his head in the direction of the table, and pointed with the messy hand he had been eating with. He pointed at the pharmacy flowers.

“What’re those?” he asked, turning his head upward, as if he could look up at me. All I could see was a bit of his forehead, and had to move my face or I would’ve received a mouthful of hair when I spoke.

“They’re flowers, for you.”

“And the candles.”

“I don’t know, to set the mood?” I shrugged, until I came to a swift realization of how vague my words had sounded. Craig puffed, half-laughing, and I could feel his shoulders bounce when he did. He reached for my arm, which was dangling off of the side of the sofa, and started playing with my fingers, admiring them like a child. Bending and straightening them, and then wrapping his own fingers around my own. I closed my hand around his in return. He replied sarcastically.

“Uhuh. What kind of mood would that be?”

I shivered. I couldn’t see what kind of smug look he was wielding on his face, but I felt the gentle touch of the tip of his index finger caress and drag itself along the outside of my thigh. This wasn’t what I was going for.

“Uhum.... a g-good..mood?” I felt undeniably stuck in his hold, I wouldn’t have the chance to explain. All I could do is wait for a reply, although it didn’t take long for a physical reply. He removed his right hand from my grasp quickly and smacked it away, and I whined. “Hey!”

He laughed some more.

“Like I’d actually do that with you, shithead,” he joked. Quite the unquestionable asshole my boyfriend was, but I sensed he meant nothing behind the insult. However, my insides screamed, and my heart was cantering. What a dreadful time for him to get the wrong idea.

“T-that’s not what I meant though!! U-unless you wanted t-OW!” Craig made an attempt to flick my forehead without looking, but hit my left eye instead on accident. My arm rocketed to aid, like the pain would automatically disappear if it was draped in pressure. Craig chuckled loudly and reached over to search and take my hand again.

“Pff oops. Sorry, but not yet, nerd,” he reassured, then proceeded to kiss the backside of my palm to configure his apology. I rubbed my eye and the faint feeling of a bruise faded. We continued to lay, this time my fingers repeatedly hitting the center of his stomach with minute tapping noises and tracing his shirt with small swirls and the letters of his name, almost as if I was labeling him with his name using a thin fountain pen the color of his messy hair. Our movements were gentle and calming, releasing each second of the memory with Cartman with every beat of the heart.

Craig was home alone before I came to the door; his dad was out working while his sister and mother traveled to his Uncle Skeeter’s place for a night, Craig was excused due to the occasion, but for obvious reasons, he no longer had much to do.

Setting the bag to lean against the side of the couch on the floor, Craig turned over into my side and on his stomach, pushing himself in between my torso and the back of the couch, sandwiching himself and wrapping his arms around me. My heart beat stayed as slow and steady, but began to beat harder, with more force. Craig turned his head and rested his chin on my shoulder, pulling me in closer to bury his face. He sighed silently, which was more of an exhale, a little bit similar to a dog, and I could feel his breathing in my neck.

I hadn’t noticed how Craig’s body started to pry me off the sofa, and the left half of my body hung off of the side of the couch. I slipped my arm a little bit loose, making sure I wouldn’t wake Craig up with the chance that he was asleep, but his nails gripped my arm harder, my breath hitched. Craig opened his eyes and found his head wasn’t resting on my shoulder anymore. I continued to slide off the edge of the couch. Craig’s eyes appeared different from what they were before when I gazed into them. They appeared grey and foggy, swirling like a slow motion hurricane was trapped in his irises, building pressure and getting ready to blow like geysers. But, the puzzles pieces of his look put together was much different. His eyelids were low, and I assumed he was probably about to fall asleep. It wasn’t a questionable look, nor was it even a glare. He didn’t say anything, but rather expected me to speak first and explain why I was leaving him, cold and alone.

Unfortunately, without having to focus on what Craig had to say, he hadn’t decided to comment at all, I found myself focusing on what my mind thought to be the next most important thing, body language. If he signaled a signature scowl, I would immediately answer the question I knew would be on his mind. But he didn’t. Instead, Craig simply opened his eyes, and looked in my direction. My heart skipped, and I was suddenly cluelessly walking through the hurricane I saw in his eyes, lost. My cheeks tingled and my ears heated, I swallowed. Craig unintentionally would boost his attractiveness at all the wrong times, and everytime it happened my brain would panic and it would always result in me staring, dumbstruck. He didn’t mean to on purpose, but perhaps whenever he had this blank, sleepy look on his face, and he only gazed into my eyes, I’m always the one dumb enough to have my heart skip and lose my train of thought.

“...Uh.. I,” I attempted to communicate, accidently forgetting to put effort into holding my body weight up on the couch, and I slipped off, bonking the back of my head on the sharp leg of the coffee table. My senses were knocked back into me when I hit the floor, and I hissed through my teeth. Too many people were teasing me in a matter of a few hours. My arm came to my head’s aid once again, rubbing my fingers through my hair and checking for blood, but nothing seemed to break the skin. My heart broke into a few pieces though, as Craig was peeking over the cushion of the couch and snickering. I felt like he knew exactly why. I squinted my eyes at him and lowered my eyebrows.

“You didn’t even stop me from falling!!” I complained, making sure to have the frown on my face look definite and express the sarcastic shattering of my emotions. The pink in my cheeks didn’t help, though.

“You didn’t tell me you were falling off, I would’ve helped you, dumbass,” he chuckled, shoving my shoulder with his loose arm. I rolled my eyes.

“I thought you were asleep!! And you would’ve kicked me off,” I grumbled. Craig gave a smug smile, and laughed some more.

“Haha, yeeah,” he spoke conceitedly, “Whelp, the couch is mine now, you can take the floor. It was getting hot up here anyway.” He rolled over, his back facing me, and curled himself up into a ball to take up the width of the sofa. I huffed, blowing air up at the hair covering my forehead again. Craig was still in a sour mood, it was going to be hard to pull him into a good mood again. I knew I had to try harder, more than just cuddling like I usually did to him. No, I was supposed to blow his mind tonight. It was prom night, and he was going to get a prom whether he wanted it anymore or not. I pivoted my head in multiple directions to look for something to do, when I spotted a foreign piece of furniture I hadn’t yet seen before in Craig’s living room. I pushed myself onto my feet and into a standing position, and started towards it.

From a distance, it looked as though it was a tall bookshelf with a doors that of a cupboard’s, but the bent metal rod poking out from the side equipped with a handle threw me off. It’s wood was redbrown, like the color of a fox’s fur, however it’s shine was faded and it’s corners were worn and scratched. It’s top seemed to be freshly dusted, to which I cocked my head at, never before seeing it where an empty corner should have been in Craig’s house. I ran fingers along the sides of it, examining and making observations in my head. I shouted to Craig, asking what it was and I heard him shifting on the other side of the couch, but before he could answer, my eyes met the second handle near the top of the “cupboard” and opened it vertically. An old, dusty smell of neglect hit my face, sort of like the room of a house that isn’t inhabited. I audibly demonstrated my piquing interest through, “woooah”’s and “woow”’s.

On the inside of the top of the cupboard was an old record player, which was then currently wielding a record I assumed was listened to by the previous user. Craig was then poking his head up from the couch, and slouched when he saw what I was admiring.

“Oh yeah, Grandma gave that to us today, said she doesn’t use it anymore. It’s not like we will use it either, ugh,” he grumbled. I took notes on the different buttons and switches on the inside; speed, the needle, where the speakers were. I turned back around to him.

“Does it work?” I questioned, and he only rolled his eyes and nodded.

“Yeah. Mom and Ruby tested it out earlier and were teasing me, of all people.” He crossed his arms, and made a hand puppet while he imitated his mom in a raspy, high pitched voice that sounded absolutely nothing like the woman that gave birth to him. “Oh Craig! This is the one I danced to with your dad! So romantic, and I barely remember it, hahaha!! Ohh my baby boy I can’t believe I’m getting so old, it’s time for you to dance too!”

I snorted, he was starting to sound ridiculous from being sarcastic for too long. I didn’t see why fighting back would be unexpected to him by that time in the night. We had been sitting for nearly an hour and a half, it was about time we got up and moved around.

“So I guess you should be dancing, right?” I joked. Craig shut his eyes and sighed through his mouth, huffing again.

“Yeah, but thanks to that fatas-” I cut off his negative comment by turning my attention back to the record player, beginning to try and figure out how to work it. I could feel Craig’s eyes glued to my back while I admired the few switches, and discovered the flick, holding the record in place. I pressed my thumb against my lip, humming in thinking position, and turned the crank on the side of the machine until it could no longer move. I cautiously put my hand near the record, (it was an old player, I didn’t quite know if it could be harmful at all, ) and set it free by flicking the switch. The record started spinning, and I pinched the plastic part of the needle with my index finger and thumb, and placed it on the end of the record. To my own surprise, music started to erupt from the inside, and my heart started to thump. I could feel my face lighting up. It was a slow song, too, My hand reached for the empty paper album cover, that of which was mainly a dark blue, with a woman sitting in the corner of the image, her hair short and pink, and in the opposite corner read the band and album name: Berlin-Count Three & Pray. I didn’t know who the hell Berlin was. But, Craig must’ve, because he groaned and shoved a pillow in his face before flopping back on his stomach on the sofa cushions, and out of my sight. I turned the album over, hearing the cheesy bassline in my ears, and read the name of the track, “Take My Breath Away.” Again, I didn’t know what the hell it was, but I heard Craig say muffled in his pillow:

“Vis is phaat shong mhom dhanchd to,” he deadpanned, following a groan. I laughed loudly and couldn’t hear my own voice, the record player was extremely loud and ear blasting for a slow song. The woman singing seemed to be standing next to me and shouting in my ear, while whoever was playing the bass was holding the amplifier up to my ear. I poked a pinkie into my ear and looked for some volume mechanism, but the only thing I could figure out how to do was close the machine with the record still spinning inside, and that seemed to muffle the noise a bit, despite lowering the quality of the music the slightest. My feet made steps back over to Craig’s side of the couch, where he lay there lazily, and I shook his shoulder.

“What did you say??” I chuckled, and he rolled over, eyes still closed.

“I said, this is the song Mom danced to,” he replied in a deadpan, once again. I puckered my lips at the side of my mouth, like I was pouting, and furrowed my eyebrows. His negative attitude was starting to rub off on me and if I had to take drastic measures to make Craig have a fun time, I was going to.  
I bent over, grabbed the bony wrist of his, which was dangling over the pillow he was yet again burying his face into, and yanked him up off of the couch. He automatically yelped and locked his legs into standing position, fingers bending at his sides as if he were to grab a gun from his belt like a sheriff. He brought a hand to his shoulder and circled his arm, glaring at me for putting him in slight pain.

“What’d you do that for??” he yelled over the music, but to answer his question, I took my left hand and went to grab the small of his back, pulling him into me and holding one of his arms up with my other hand. Craig swallowed when I rubbed my thumb along his back impatiently, darting his eyes at every limb of ours, and used his free hand to nervously pull at his shirt collar while he averted his eyes from me. My mouth went to a straight line.

“If you wanted to dance tonight, you’re going to dance tonight. Now put your other hand on my shoulder, please,” I said, sternly. I expected Craig to look down, embarrassed-like, and fulfill my polite request, but he only rolled his eyes, again, and sighed. He made eye contact with me again, showing me those foggy, lightning storm eyes.

“Clyde, this is a waltz position, you don’t waltz at a school dance. Here,” he said, in a little more sincere tone this time, and removed his hand from mine before grabbing my wrists instead, and positioning them in different places. “Put your arms on my shoulders and around my neck,... there. Now stay.” The bassline of the cheesy music continued to repeat, but slowly my body started to adjust awkwardly to the song. My ears tuned it’s high volume out while I focused on Craig’s voice, and I started to try and take slower, deeper breaths. My plan took a U-turn, and now Craig was putting himself in control. He slipped his hands around my waist with smooth delicacy, while all my limbs stood still and numb like wooden planks. My heart didn’t stay still though. Nope.

“I’m putting you as the girl part so I can lead you. I know you can’t dance because you’re a moron,” he insulted, and I complained back to him, soon to be cut off by Craig beginning to move his feet and ignoring my protests, swaying the both of us in slow circles and from side to side. Our height difference made it all the more awkward, there was barely a height difference at all, therefore Craig and I’s noses were practically touching and all we could look at were each other’s eyes. The embarrassment was unbearable, with the fact that I almost got him, he was blushing and so close to allowing me to just treat him to a life’s night, and he threw me on the lead’ee part. The only way I could avoid seeing him while he watched me melt into a puddle was to tilt my head downward so all he could see was my forehead and hair. I didn’t dare let him see me red-faced, but he was laughing again, and it sounded like nice laughter, sort of like…..

Like he was warming up again.

From under my chestnut hair, I felt my lips curl into a smile at the sound of Craig’s laughing, his happy noises, and when he kissed the top of my head and in my hair, I melted happily, taking my arms and slipping them around his waist, and resting my head on his shoulder while he swayed the both of us. I loved being the “bigger one” in the couple, but feeling pampered didn’t come from Craig very often because I wanted everything for Craig to be happy, and Craig knew that.

Without watching my feet while Craig moved me around, I found myself stepping on his toes, my own toes, and stumbling from leaning into him too much. I was ruining the bliss, it felt like. The slow song was coming to an end, the woman’s voice growing more faint whilst she sang higher notes, as if she was floating away. A more upbeat love song came on, still as cringingly cheesy as an 80’s band would be, but a bit faster. I didn’t bother to look up the name of it. But I had reached back and grabbed Craig’s hands mid-song, clutching them as we leant against each other and swayed. My hands started to feel clammy and nervous, I had never gone that long with Craig controlling me. I didn’t know if it was natural instinct disrupting me and desperately begging me to do something absolutely stupid, or if I was tired of giving in and sitting there red-faced because Craig was being too stubborn, but with Craig’s hands in mine, I pushed myself away with the force of my legs, letting go of one hand. I circled outward, facing the same direction outward from Craig, while we took side-by-side and still held together from far part by our outstretched arms. Craig’s eyes were bulging, cocking his eyebrows at the sudden surprise.

“Wh-What are you; aGH-” he yelped, when I pulled him again. I had seen this in movies, and it happened with beginners. Who cares if I was tripping over my own ankles before? Surely if I tried a much faster dance with more difficult moves I’d be better at it.  
Craig was trying to resist to my movements, while I tried to turn him smoothly, and most of our motions resulted in either a heavy sigh from Craig, a confused pause from me ( Why isn’t he turning into me? He should be wrapping his arm around himself, and I let him go kind of like a paper towel roll, ) or surprised jolts from Craig’s end. He wasn’t moving with me at all, and I pictured what this dancing sequence would look like to someone else, and started to laugh.

“You aren’t dancing with me at all, Craig!!” I shouted over the music, and he gave me a look as if I were crazy.

“This isn’t fucking dancing, Clyde!” he shouted back, and I pulled him into me. I knew I wasn’t doing anything right, and hearing Craig’s yelps while I lead him around was fairly entertaining. I moved gently, but so sloppily and practically winged ( wung? ) the whole sequence from vague memory of what I see in all those romance movies on the tv all of the time. I felt the song was nearing it’s end again, and the way people always ended it was with the dance move everyone can recognize. I only prayed I would at least do it right.

Once again, pulling Craig in with force and hearing him take a sharp intake of air, I put on hand around his waist to keep a firm hold on allll of his body weight, and turned him to the side, pulling his lower back upward and lifting his feet partially off of the ground like puppet strings. His upper body shifted with his weight and fell backward, I however held him up with my other hand holding his way in the air, bent over his body with the most sly look on my face. I was excited, I had done it right, I was sure, because a look of amazement, or maybe fear, had plastered itself across Craig’s face. Craig gulped, and his cheeks started to powder with color, as if little pink tufts of pollen were brushed on his face. I chuckled to myself, and Craig averted his eyes, pushing my face away with face, and pursing his lips. Mission Accomplished.

“Alright fine. P-put me down,” he said, taking is captivated hand from mine and crossing his arms. I placed my empty hand back behind his head, and held him closer, looking into his eyes, and instead of witnessing the eye of the storm, he appeared just as dumbstruck. My fingers slipped under the hem of his shirt, just barely revealing a small amount of his skin, and running my cold fingers along his side. He visibly quivered. I hummed in reply. Whatever I was feeling was surely different from what type of look I had on my face. I was sure I’d mess up when dancing, but I did something right and I completely showed Craig up. My heart thumped happily, all while at the same time I continued to try and make Craig blush even more. My eyelids lowered, and when I leaned my face in, I had to hold my breath a bit to try and hide my excitement. He squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head away from lips, which were centimeters from brushing against his skin. My stomach curled, and I couldn’t hold in a low giggle anymore.

Just a few lengths closer, I inched towards his neck, and I could hear the nervous noises whimpering from inside his throat. My face buried itself into Craig’s neck, and I felt so ridiculous that I could barely hold my breath anymore, and my smile had to be hidden to make Craig think I was being absolutely serious. I giggled into his neck again, and planted a few kisses around and behind his ear, which made me find it even funnier, because Craig shivered at every one. He made me laugh, and my eyes shut, tickling his skin with my eyelashes. That made Craig freeze up, then start to scramble out of my arms like a weasel. He startled me, and I accidently let go of him completely, dropping his entire body.

“O-oops!! Hahahaha, sorry!” I apologized, but I know it didn’t sound sincere, because I had already let myself go and stopped even trying to be cool. Craig sat up on the floor, and turned his head away from me, but I could still see that even his ears were rosy. He rubbed the arm that broke his fall a little, thankfully there wasn’t much of a fall at all for him to hit the floor hard enough to break anything. But he brought his knees to his chest, and turning away from me stubbornly. My smile melted a bit, and the excitement of mine simmered down. Craig still hadn’t broken. But I could feel it through my own mind and through my veins that Craig didn’t want to mope around all night. He had pulled the last straw. Now, now he wasn’t going to get any mercy.

“Craig?” I said, imitating his deadpan. He glanced to the side to look at me when I was speaking. I bent my knees and crouched down to his level. I bent my elbows and placed my hands on my knees. I could see him raise his eyebrows from under his bangs, and I crawled over to him slowly, as to not scare him away to quickly.

“I am going to make you smile tonight,” said menacingly, “even if I have to force it out of you.” He gave the hints before, it wasn’t a coincidence as to why he shoved me away when I started to kiss his neck.

I bared my arms out in front of me like lobster claws, finger imitating my next action, and Craig’s eyes bulged in terror.

“c LYDE NO DON’t-” but I had already near pounced on him like a tiger. Craig screamed, and although no one was home, I wondered if anyone down the street could hear him yelping. I busted with light-hearted, but at the same time, pretty terrifying laughter, and I grabbed ahold of any bit of Craig I could capture on the floor, which was thankfully his arm. He was just as light as before, to which I could yank him over and pin him to the carpet by grabbing ahold of his other arm and holding them above his head while he lay on his back. I had my left hand holding his hands down to the ground, while my other’s fingers dug into his ribs playfully. Craig struggled to get his arms free, all the while he turned his head away in an attempt to hide the gigantic smile on his face. I paused, and when my fingers stopped moving, Craig continued to laugh, his cheeks blooming in crimson. I knew he had a good mood in him. A grin of my own stitched onto my face and under my nose, and I began to use both arms to tickle his sides and under his armpits. I couldn’t even notice the music coming from the record player after that, Craig’s laughter drowned it out, and it was much more fun to listen to, I’ll admit.

“Clyde s-sToPAWHAAHAAHA-” he choked out, but speaking actual English was a difficulty he had yet to master while I was smothering him with tickles and giggles of my own. Craig threw insults at me whenever he had the breath, calling me words that were cut off my his own voice, names like “ASssHAHAHA-” and “moTherFUCKE*snort*-.” I felt my own cheeks heat up, but I knew I wasn’t fuming as badly as Craig was. He looked like he could use a cold shower. He’ll live, I thought. I mean, look how smiley he is. I wasn’t done yet, though. His ribs weren’t even his worst spot. I leaned in, still swiftly tickling his underarms, and started peppering his neck with smooches. His laughing evolved, from very loud and lighthearted to absolutely heart tingling, yet very obnoxious as well. He was wheezing too much to even get words out anymore, and his shoulders tensed up every time I would plant another peck into his neck, so I moved to his face. With his hands free, he covered his mouth with one hand, not being able to stop his giggling, and he pushed my face away with his other to let himself breathe.

I straightened my back and stepped over Craig, so I wasn’t hovering his entire body anymore. He was also kicking his lengthy legs, and I didn’t want to take the risk of getting kneed in the stomach or the crotch. He wasn’t going to win this time. Crossing my arms, I didn’t touch him anymore, and he rolled onto his side, some color returning to his face. He kept his hand perfectly cupped over his mouth and continued to empty his laughing tank. Once he nearly caught his breath, he opened his eyes and looked up at me, probably confused as to why I had even stopped. Did I say I was giving mercy? No, I most certainly didn’t.  
“Craig, you know I hate it when you hide your smile like that,” I teased. He shot me a nervous look, but when he removed his hand, a small lip smile still lingered while he waited for an explanation. Yeah, with his face all flustered like that he couldn’t have looked any cuter, but I was doing business. I had already won Craig over for the night, but I couldn’t go down without a celebration. He stuttered, his hair all ruffled and messy.

“C-clyde, what the hell are you saying?” I would’ve interrupted his shaky voice, but he spoke so quickly and nervously that I couldn’t keep up, but my hands went to grab ahold of the bottom of his shirt, flip it up, and blow a big raspberry into his stomach. After knocking over the bag of Chex Mix with his foot due to the surprise, Craig, before he could take a deep breath again, had already exploded with laughter, and when I held his chest and legs down to the floor to blow more air into his stomach, his giggling transformed into nothing but snorts and the banging of his fist on the carpet floor. My heart strings were being plucked all over the place. It was amazing how I could find his ugly snorts so freakishly adorable. He wiped his eyes with the ball of his palm, but along came a 3rd buzzing in the middle of his stomach, making him start to snort much, much louder and giggle in between them. I traveled upward and back into his neck, blowing more long, aggressive raspberries into it like a playful vampire, and more all along his collarbone. His hands went immediately to his face to cover himself and make himself disappear. He wouldn’t vanish from my sight, I had wrapped my arms around his shoulders, switching off from raspberries to kisses all over his neck. His neck was extremely warm and he was still curtaining his entire face, muffling his adorable snorting. I finished him off with just simple, small nuzzles around his ear, and he finally spoke again after he caught his breath.

“F-fuck you dude. F-f-fuck you,” he complained, his voice sounding like he was under a blanket with his hands covering his face. I scooted backward on my stomach, now laying next to him, and rested my chin on his shoulder. I chuckled, closing my eyes and poking the visible skin on his chin.

“I love you tooo,” I hummed, and he turned his head further away from me. I watched him remove his hands from his face and give them a wide-eyed look of shock when he wiped the right side of his mouth. He again covered the half of his face that I could see with his other hand and wiped his face.

“You fucking made me drool all over the fucking place!!” he complained, and it was my turn to laugh once I became aware of the other damage I had done. Tt was just saliva, what a wimp. He could’ve, like, farted, or pissed himself. Yep, Craig, the big bad asshole who was emotionless and doesn’t have the slightest idea of what cute was. Probably because he himself is what is cute.

“Hehe, you’re welcome. C’mere you dumb little piglet,” I joked, but he flinched at my unique nickname and pushed me away, covering his eyes and letting his mouth become a squiggly line, and I giggled some more. “Oh come on Craig, you don’t have to be embarrassed,” I comforted, hugging him. He separated his fingers, peeking through to me.

“Damn straight!! You shouldn’t be fucking teasing me like that!” he defended, but I whistled lowly. Hotstuff.

“Woah there Ms. Fox I never said I couldn’t tease you,” I laughed. I grabbed one of his wrists and pulled his hands away from his eyes. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, grabbed a handful the spilled Chex Mix from the other side, and threw the mixture of pretzels and chips at my face. His cheeks remained dyed with color just as much as a few minutes before, and turned his head away from my again.

“Aw Craig, please??” I whined, blinking crumbs out of my eyes. I knew he wasn’t actually angry. “Craaaaiig, I love youu.” Craig hesitated, but tensed his shoulders up to his neck again. I puffed air from my bottom lip. I reached over and cradled the side of his face, bringing it back towards my face. I stretched my neck up from his shoulder, and kissed him softly. I wouldn’t count it as an apology, I could feel a smile being pressed against my own lips. He shifted around his weight, and rolled back over to face me. He still lay in my hold, and I pulled him back into a bear hug, pressing the two of us flush together. Craig nuzzled his face into my chest and took a handful of my shirt in his hand again. It was only then that I became aware that him and I were still dressed in our Sunday clothing, and I was sweating. Awfully. The last thing I wanted was for Craig to turn his head and smell sour B.O. My cheeks tingled with fear. I tapped his head.

“H-hey, did you want to put comfier clothes on?” I offered. Craig turned his head upward, his face was almost back to its normal color, and nodded.

The setting changed and shifted so easily and quickly, being around Craig just felt smooth, normal. Like I was at home, even when I wasn’t. One minute were both laughing louder than the record player, and suddenly we’ve been doing it so long the record had already finished playing and the needle was stuck in the center of the spinning disk, making no noise except the innocent, soft crackling and the turning of the wheel with the record on it’s tip.

Craig sloppily made his way up the steps while I gently applied pressure with my finger on the record and let it slow to a stop, before shutting it, ridding my nostrils of that same raggedy, old smell, and followed behind in Craig’s steps.

Craig trudged through the upstairs hallway and followed a dotted line to where his bedroom was located. Not even bothering to flick his light switch, Craig waddled over to his dresser, while I flopped onto his ready-made bed, and started unbuttoning my shirt. I was glad he left the lights off, I felt more embarrassed taking the time to unbutton a shirt rather than just pull it off from over my neck. It enhanced awkwardness that didn’t even exist. Craig, however, didn’t seem to let anything bother him, as he was already stripped to his boxers and was digging through his drawers, before he found a white t-shirt for himself and pulled it over his head, slipping his arms in last. The hem of the shirt ran just below the center of his thighs, probably all stretched out from trying to fit his legs in his shirt as well to be comfortable. I glanced around the room and out the window, gleaming with the light from the white street lamps. From the corner, I could hear his guinea pigs rustling and chirping softly. Craig rustled through the dresser, looking for another big shirt to give me, and when found one near the back, put it to his nose to smell it, and threw it at me.

“This one is yours, anyway,” he grunted, before walking over to the case on the desk in the corner of his room, and opening it with a clatter, waiting for me to dress, or.. more strip, really. While I slipped my legs out of my pants and shivering from the sudden coolness of the room, Craig sat in his desk chair with his pet in his hands, petting it while it purred and chirped as he caressed the soft and shedding fur on it’s back. I turned to grab the shirt from off of his bed and slipped it on over my torso, and I heard Craig say from behind me, “You’re just a fattie, huh.”

My head turned on reflex at the phrase, when I realized he was only speaking to his pet again, he held the small animal in front of his face with a kissy voice. I felt a rush of relief blow over my mind, and pulled the shirt down over my stomach, making it disappear like I always made it. I didn’t like to think about it.

“You.. ready to go back downstairs?” I asked. Craig looked up and I could see the figure of him nodding in the dark, and placing his guinea pig back in it’s cage. He swept past me and exited the room, I again, following behind.

Craig trotted over to the cabinet under his tv, to which he opened the doors to and revealed a bunch of dvds. He started picking through them with his fingers, running the tip over the spines and reading the titles. I glanced through the kitchen door and squinted my eyes to try and read the green, glowing clock where the oven time stood on the stove.

12:38 a.m.

I leaned back against the railing on the stairs, attempting to put my hands in my pockets, ( and stupidly remembering I wasn’t wearing any pants ), not even nodding off despite the time. I knew everyone at the high school was now at home, probably texting friends, or dreaming about hours before, and I felt I was the only one together with my date. Well, I figured Kenny probably brought a girl home. Didn’t matter if she was his date or not. I snickered to myself, but heard a little snap, similar to that of when you turn the gas on before cooking something on the stove. I whipped my head in Craig’s direction.

He was blowing on the lighter that I had brought, and flicking the button with his thumb to get it to light. He had one of the scented candles I had brought over on the table in front of him. I walked over in his direction, and crouched down beside him. He flicked the lighter again; no fire. He looked up at me next to him, and then pointed at the tv.

“Go turn that on,” he requested, and I followed, searching for the power button, until the lights suddenly went off before I could locate it. I turned around to see Craig at the light switch, a burning candle on the coffee table. I chuckled at him while he grabbed a blanket, threw it on the couch, but before he could lay down again, he stepped in a pile of Chex and groaned. He picked the crumbs out of his toes and picked up the bits and pieces on the floor, and brushing his hands off over the bag, and wandered into the kitchen to dispose of it. Luckily, I had brought more snacks, the the next bag he opened was a family size bag of Cheesy Poofs, and I could recognize the bag by the sound of the aluminum squeaking as he pulled two ends in opposite directions, ripping it open.

I felt the side of the television with my fingers, suddenly feeling a little dent, and pressed the button under my finger. To my luck, I heard the machine turning on in my ears and my eyes were surprised with a sudden bright light and loud voices trapped inside the speakers. Satisfied, I sleepily wandered back to the couch and sat down next to Craig, and almost immediately he leaned back on my shoulder, stuffing his hand into the bag and crushing the poofs in his teeth. They looked a little bit scary in the limited light, like packing peanuts, but I opened my mouth a little bit and Craig shifted and put it in my mouth with his fingers, already dusted with cheesy powder.  
I don’t know how long we stayed there under the blanket in the moody darkness, and I can’t even remember what exactly was gleaming and playing an laughing track on the screen of the TV. Craig hadn’t bothered to even put in a DVD. The most he took the time to do was turn the volume down. I wasn’t paying attention to the late-night programming, admiring Craig doing simple things like eating snacks, or making more curly-Q’s on the small of his back after we found ourselves lying back down in spooning position on the couch. This time if anyone was to fall, it would be Craig, because of course, I was the big spoon. I made sure that Craig wouldn’t fall, however. I wrapped both arms around his torso and held him close into me, even if one of my hands would falls asleep under his weight. I didn’t mind, as long as I was there with him.  
We didn’t need to conversate much at all, and we didn’t. For a while we would sit in silence and watch whatever was blinding us on the tv screen. Every once in awhile we would make a dumb comment about anything, ( *commercial for a new alien movie broadcasts on the screen* “That’s you.” ). Craig held up his cheesy fingers in front of my face without realizing, and I started to get annoyed, so I licked them off for him.

“oh-h aW You’re nasty!”

“Heheheh.”

I never bothered to look at the clock the rest of our night, but I imagined it got late fairly quickly, as every time I found my attention on the TV again, a different program was on, with different characters and different actors, different sets and lights.

Eventually Craig did set the bag of Cheesy Poofs down on the side of the sofa, ready to be kicked over, because he hadn’t learnt his lesson yet. He rolled over, facing away from the television screen, while I loosened my hold on him, allowing him to move around. As soon as he made himself comfortable, took the edge of the blanket and pulled it up to his face, warming his face from the cold air. My toes stuck out from the other side of the blanket, and they were frozen, because when I did as little as scratch my ankle, I shivered. Craig had closed his eyes, I assumed he wanted to fall asleep. I reached over to my side and patted everywhere until I had a grip on the tv remote, and muted the sound. The only other noise you could hear was the ventilation and the soft, ear-ringing buzzing of the TV in operation.

With my arms still under the blanket, I shifted them again to where they wrapped around Craig’s neck, and we pressed ourselves against each other. I sighed into his hair, attempting to fall asleep on my own as well. Until Craig tapped my collarbone just after I had lost my train-of-thought, the second stage of drifting into sleep. I cracked open my eyes and pulled away from my hug to look at his face, humming, with a question mark. He had a sleepy voice as well, and he didn’t sound like himself.  
“Thank you….for tonight, you did the best,” he continued, “I had lots of fun with you. Yura nerd fer tryin so hard, though.” He slurred a few of his words, but I understood what he was trying to come across with. I gulped, and throughout the entirety of the night, even when I leant onto Craig, I hadn’t felt myself fume more than I did then. Mission Accomplished, for the second time. It was dark and I was sure he wasn’t able to see my face, but I still hid my cheeks in his hair.

“Y-yeah. I-I’m happy then,” I replied. My senses were only slowly coming back to me the more I remembered all the things I did for Craig that night. He was my ultimate weakness. I thought about how he was laughing and red-faced, and smiled even bigger into his forehead. My heart thumped like crazy, like I had won an award for what I was going for. It felt magical to know I still made the night better for Craig than some stupid school dance. Craig pinched my chin with his two fingers, and pulled my blushing face back out from hiding. He wasn’t finished.

“We should get kicked out more often. I… like being alone with you,” he said sweetly, and my stomach did backflips while my heart did somersaults, the little voice inside my head inhabited a body and was playing football, he scored a touchdown and slammed the ball on the ground in celebration. My fingers clenched the fabric of Craig’s t-shirt on his back, and Craig quietly laughed. I could feel his breath on my chest, and I became painfully aware of how close he was to me. I was going nuts. Craig rubbed the small of my back with his thumb, and I shivered. He giggled some more. I guess he knew he had done enough teasing to me, even though I practically messed with him all night. But, I’ll never be able to decide what’s more embarrassing to admit, being teased, or Craig not even bothering to tease and going straight in for it.

Nothing...too intimate, no. I just expected to fall asleep after that, but to my surprise, Craig pressed both of his hands on opposite sides of my face, and pulled me into long, breath-length kisses that used up the last remaining bit of his energy. The first time startled me, and I barely had enough air to breathe. When Craig pressed harder, my eyes squeezed themselves shut, because I was too shy to pull away,. Craig ended it, and I gasped like I was popping up from a pool. It was loud, and I brought a hand to cover whatever parts of my face it could cover in embarrassment. I was sleepy and hot, I could barely think straight, and although Craig was in the same setting, he seemed perfectly fine compared to me. He appeared sly, condescending to me in the very early a.m. hours. He pulled my lips in again, moving against my lips and nibbling the skin on the outer end of my bottom lip. He released short whiffs of breath, those of which were hinted with whimpers after my hands went into autopilot, fingers searching the back of his head and pulling his hair gently.

I heard keys jiggling the doorknob from the garage entrance, and froze. My heart jumped up to my throat, but I couldn’t bring myself to move, even if I could’ve been quick enough to hide, because Craig was still blindly ( and deafly ) functioning with my lips. I sort of silently prayed it wouldn’t be his dad, but all that happened was Craig’s mother switching on the living room light, temporarily blinding the both of us, and she startled herself, dropping her purse and gripping Ruby’s hand harder, who was practically falling asleep standing up right next to her.

As soon as Craig heard the shortest sound of his mother’s voice, he jolted, mid-kiss, attempting to scramble away from me, but fell off the couch and onto his ass. His face was even redder in the light, and his hair was out of control due to my finger’s work at tangling and messing it up. His legs were sprawled out on the floor, and he looked as though he may have fainted if he hadn’t been holding himself up by the arm of the sofa.

“Y-YOU’RE HOME EARLY, M-MOM,” he choked, and his voice cracked on every consonant of every word. It was better if I didn’t act as guilty, even if my own cheeks and ears were just as red as Craig’s. I cracked Laura an anxious smile and gave her the tiniest wave, as if trying to be polite would be useful, anyhow. Hello Mrs. Tucker. Yes, I was certainly making out with your son. You know, how crazy we youngsters are, haha.

“Yeah, Skeeter got drunk again. God that’s all our family is, it seems,” she laughed. Craig was shooting her crazy eyes. This wasn’t the reaction I was expecting, either. “Where’s your dad?” she questioned. This had to do with the making out, I knew that for a fact.

“I-I-I-I don’t know he’s not home-” Craig stuttered. His mom sighed and hung the keys behind the kitchen door.

“Hmm. Yeah, I somehow figured, you know?” she complained. “Ah well, Ruby and I will go to sleep then.”

“Mmhmm.”

“You boys can make breakfast if you’re still up by then. There’s no way I’m waking up by then.”

“Yep. Got it M-mom. Th-thanks,” he continued to stutter. Laura rolled her eyes when she reached the bottom of the steps, Ruby trailing behind her, and she turned around with her hands on her hips.

“Craig, you’re fine. I had a strong feeling you’d do this.”

“What?? N-no Mom I’m not-”

“Oh-hooo, yes you are. I know the way you look at him, I’m your mom,” she sassed. My heart fluttered when she acknowledged me. I was glad, she really didn’t sound like she wanted to kick my ass, or disappointed at all. She deemed Craig just as ridiculous as I started to think he looked, all embarrassed in front of his mom, jeez.. Craig swallowed nervously, he had transformed into a little kid again.

“Go ahead, I don’t care. You’re gay, Craig. As long as it’s with Clyde I don’t care. I’ll pretend I saw nothing. Goodnight. Goodnight, Clyde,” he said, waving, and starting up the stairs. I waved again and replied with my own “Goodnight, Mrs. Tucker,” while Craig continued to fume on the floor.

“Turn off the TV if you aren’t even watching it,” she ordered as she made her way up the last few steps. Craig started up again.

“M-Mom wait! No, w-we weren’t going to-” but she cut him off with another, “I don’t care, Craig!” coming from the upstairs hallways, sounding fainter.

He buried his face in his hands and groaned, I laughed at him, tugging his shirtsleeve and cupping his cheek, kissing him on the ear again. He removed his hands from his face, and he returned to normal Craig: His eyebrows lowered into a half-angry glare, and he exhaled loudly, tired of everything. He stood up, brushing the Cheesy dust off of his shirt and went to turn off the light switch near the steps, when Ruby greeted him face-to-face through the railing, making crude hand gestures with her fingers, and Craig gritted his teeth, looking similar to a menacing and insane smile.

“I will beat your little orange-haired ass-” he threatened playfully, pretending to get ready to chase her up the stairs, but he only stayed, Ruby crawling up the steps like an animal, and making a childish face at the top of the steps with her fingers in her mouth, to which Craig stuck his tongue out like he was the same age, and watched her scramble up and into her bedroom, giggling. He slapped the switch off and trudged over to the couch, eyeing me, the only person his mom was okay with, and spread himself out on the floor in between the coffee table and the legs of the sofa. I whined, I felt as though Craig would come right back to at least just go to sleep with me, but when I complained, he went back into a deadpan.

“I’m sleeping on the floor,” he said. I laughed. He was being super unreasonable.

“But Craig-”

“No. I’m sleeping here.”

“But Craig I love you.”

“...Yeah I love you too but I’m sleeping on the floor with the guinea pig hair and crumbs.” Our voices switched to whispers when we heard a bedroom door shut upstairs.

“Can you at least kiss me again??” I asked, as sweetly and seriously as I could. He paused, but rolled over to me and sat up.

 

“Fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed. I had to research 80s prom music for this. It's been a long.. many hours. I worked myself to death on this, I was too excited for that tickle fight. I love you memes, until I kill myself writing again <3


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